


brother (let me be your shelter)

by good_ho_mens



Series: DC One-offs [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canonical Character Death, Damian Wayne is a good brother, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jason Todd is a good brother, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, Wayne Enterprises, basically i read that one comic where Tim talks to Damian about protecting young heroes, even tho theyre only there for a hot second jskbvv, except damian is dead and isnt actally there and i was mAd, h e y make that a tag you coWArds, hey make that a tag cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_ho_mens/pseuds/good_ho_mens
Summary: “I need you to have a plan, Damian,” Tim says, almost pleading. “I need you to have a life outside of punching bad guys and getting stabbed. If I could have one thing it would be you never picking up the Robin mask again-”“What?”
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: DC One-offs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623775
Comments: 20
Kudos: 461





	brother (let me be your shelter)

“Timothy!” 

Tim looks up from his coffee that he, admittedly, had been staring at for the past three minutes and twenty seven seconds as he stands next to the sink because he really, really doesn’t want to set it down and be separated from the warmth and caffeine-

“ _ Timothy _ !”

Oh. Right. Tim turns, still not quite ready to set his coffee down yet, and smiles as Damian stomps into the room, hair ratted and standing up with bedhead, his fleece Nightwing pajamas just a little too big, flopping over his hands. “Hey, brat.”

Damian rolls his eyes and makes grabby hands for Tim’s half empty coffee, and, with a sad look, Tim gives it to him. Damian blows on it carefully, “Why are you up so early?”

“Why are you so suspicious?” Tim yawns. “I have to go to work, I’ve been putting off this board meeting for way too long.”

The coffee cup connects to the table a little too loudly. “I see.”

Tim frowns as he studies his younger brother, “Damian.”

“Drake."

“Damian.”

“Drake.”

“ _ Damian _ .” 

The eleven year old sighs, “Timothy.”

“What’s wrong?”

Damian sits down at the table, shaking one hand out of his sleeve so he can trace the “#1 Detective” letters on the mug. (A gift from Dick to Bruce that Tim promptly stole. He already has a “#1 Dad” from Cass. Tim can have this one thing.) 

“I thought- I  _ presumed _ ,” Damian corrects, “that due to father and Richard’s absence, along with Pennyworth and Thomas, and Todd having his “girl’s day” with Brown and Cain, you would… want to keep an eye on me.”

Tim silently curses himself for not just getting the meeting over with ages ago. Really, he should’ve known that with Dick and Bruce on league business, towing Duke with them to keep an eye on his still generally mysterious powers and bringing Alfred along to keep a level head, he would be expected to babysit the demon brat. 

It’s not like he minds, not really. The two of them are a lot closer than they’d ever been before, but Tim thinks he’s still allowed a monocure of annoyance, it’s his right as an older brother. Jason’s been claiming that one for years.

“I’m sorry, Damian. I really would like to-”

“It isn’t of consequence.” Damian shoots to his feet, face set in a way that might be intimidating if he wasn’t wearing too big pj’s -that definitely were in Tim’s closet last week now that he thinks about it- and wasn’t a literal child. “I will simply spend the day with Titus and Alfred. Their company is preferable.”

Tim stares at his younger brother, his eyes narrowing before they widen. He sits back, purposely making his body language more open. “Hey, hold on. Did you really want to hang out today?”

Damian glares back at him. “I don’t “hang out”.”

“Did you really want to spend time together?” Tim amends easily.

“Perhaps with the others' absence I saw an…” Damian hums. “opportunity.” 

Tim kind of really feels bad now. He also wonders if it would be unsympathetic to take his coffee back. Maybe he should just brew a new pot. Forcefully pulling his brain away from caffeine, Tim stands and straightens his tie, “Go get dressed, Damian. Business wear, not as fancy as galas.”

Damian narrows his eyes at Tim. “Why?”

“I can’t say it’ll be fun, but it’s time spent together, so.” Tim shrugs, “You can come to work with me. We can go grab ice cream and dinner after.”

“Ice cream  _ before _ dinner?” Damian asks, and he sounds so much like the kid he’s supposed to be, Tim might cry.

Instead, he laughs, and ruffles Damian’s already messy hair. “Yeah, demon. Before dinner. Now go, we need to leave in twenty.”

Damian races away, but not before grabbing Tim’s coffee cup. Tim lets himself mourn it for a few seconds before he puts on another pot, pulling out the “Superman < Batman” mug that Jason had bought Bruce for father’s day and then insisted he read the sign backwards. Jason is a liar. Bruce almost cried. Tim’s pretty sure Dick did. It was a weird day.

He jumps when his phone rings, answering it as he checks the caller ID in passing. It’s not hard to guess who it is. “Hey, B.”

_ “Tim, how is everything?” _

His tone is relaxed, as much as it gets when he spends time around the JLA, and he’s using names, so Tim lets his shoulders untense. “Fine. Damian and I are heading to W.E in a few minutes.”

_ “Together?" _

_ “Together?” _ Dick echoes, somewhere away from the phone.  _ “Wait- B- did they burn the house down? Are they escaping to W.E because they burned the house down?” _

_ “Did you burn the house down?” _

Tim rolls his eyes. “No, we did not burn the house down.”

_ “Ask where Jason is!” _

_ “Where’s Jason?” _

“I can hear Dick just fine.” Tim snorts and shakes his head. “Girl’s night. No, not like that. He took Steph and Cass. I think they wanted to blackmail some rich bigots.”

Bruce’s voice sounds conflicted.  _ “That’s… good.” _

The sound of a door slamming open nearly makes Tim fall off his chair.  _ “That shower is the  _ shit _!” _

_ “You are so lucky Alfred went for breakfast.” _

Duke’s voice gets louder and there’s the distinct sound of a wet towel hitting something and Dick’s offended yell.  _ “Hey is that Tim? Tell him to never leave me alone without him or Cass again.” _

_ “I’m offended.” _

_ “You should be.” _

_ “Boys.” _

Tim stifles a half laugh, half groan. “Hey, Duke. Meet Wonder Woman yet?”

_ “Dude! Jason was right!” _

“Did she smash someone with her thighs?”

_“She_ smashed _someone with her_ thighs _,_ _Tim! Bruce, Wonder Woman is cooler than you.”_

_ “I know.” _

_ “Wonder Woman is cooler than all of us.” _

_ “I know!”  _ Dick’s voice this time. Time huffs a laugh.

The next time Bruce says anything, his voice is quieter and Dick and Duke’s ranting about Diana fades to the back. So, not on speaker anymore. _ “You’re sure everything is fine?” _

“Yes, dad. We’re okay.  _ Jeez _ , it’s like you don’t trust me to protect Gotham.”

_ “I trust you to protect Gotham fine, I don’t trust the amount of caffeine you consume when Alfred isn’t there to switch you to decaf.” _

Tim very, very quietly, pours his fourth cup of the morning down the sink. “Don’t worry about me, I went to bed at like, one last night.”

_ “A new record.” _ Bruce doesn’t even sound a little sarcastic. “ _ Damian _ ?”

“He sat on me.”

_ “Good kid.” _

Speaking of, Damian comes barreling into the room just then, holding up his tie defiantly. “Timothy! I demand to face whoever created neck ties! I will run them through with my blade!”

_ “There’s my little ray of sunshine.” _

Tim chokes on a laugh and holds out his hand for the tie. “Trade me, bud.”

Damian obediently passes Tim the tie and takes the phone, holding it up to his ear. “Father.”

“Tell him you aced your math quiz.”

“How did you-” Damian scowls. “I aced my math quiz. Thank you. Obviously. Mrs. Sandy is an idiot.” Tim bites his lip and holds his breath as he sets the tie around Damian’s collar, evening out the sides. Damian sighs exasperatingly. “Mrs. Sandy is trying her best.”

Tim folds the tie over, narrowing his eyes. “Ask him if it’s under or over first.”

“Did you hear that? Yes.” Damian pulls the phone away from his ear. “Father says you’re incompitent.”

There’s a barely audible “ _ Damian _ !” from the phone, and Damian smirks. Tim rolls his eyes, “Under or over?”

“Under. How did you tie your own if you can’t remember how to tie mine?”

“Mine’s a clip on,” Tim replies, half listening to Damian’s answers to whatever Bruce is asking him. “Make sure to say hi to Dick.”

“I know-” Damian starts to tell him, but his voice is cut off at the end as Dick screeches his name, and he pulls the phone away from his ear. “Not so loud, Richard! I can hear you clearly.”

Tim straightens Damian’s tie and fixes his collar. “You ready?”

“Yes.” Damian scoff. “No, Richard, not you. I am not planning to kill Drake.”

“That’s too bad.”

Damian glares at him, “I  _ will _ give you the phone and let Richard blubber over you.”

Tim puts his hands up in surrender. “I take it back, I am very happy not to be killed.”

Satisfied, Damian turns back to the phone. “I must go, Richard. Timothy and I have business to attend to at work. Tell Thomas he is the only smart one.”

He hangs up and passes Tim his phone. Tim takes it, “You realize he’s just going to spam me with emojis until you tell him you love him, right?"

“Life is suffering, Timothy.”

Tim wishes he hadn’t thrown out his coffee in a fit of guilt at the idea of Alfred’s disappointed face. He’s Red Robin. He’s stronger than that.

He also doesn’t get a new cup as they head out the door.

At the car, Tim has to physically pick Damian up and carry him over to the passenger seat before he climbs behind the wheel. Damian glares at him. “I am a better driver than you.”

“You’re lucky I’m not putting you in the back.” Tim waits until Damian puts his seatbelt on to walk around the car and pull himself inside. “I promise, Damian, the second you’re legally old enough to drive, you can be my personal chauffeur.”

Damian scoffs, “If only to keep you from getting kidnapped twice a week like an amateur.”

“You know as well as I do that Tim Drake can’t fight anyone.” Tim starts the ignition, pulling slowly out of the long driveway. “I don’t have Jason’s excuse of growing up a street kid, or Dick’s acrobatic training, or your familial background.”

“Tim Drake is useless.” Damian crosses his arms. “You should have bodyguards at all times.”

“Oh yeah, that’ll go over well. “Hey bodyguards, I know the Joker is attacking Gotham right now but I just have to ditch you real fast so I can put on a Halloween costume and punch him in the face”.”

Damian leans over to punch his arm. Tim sticks his tongue out.

***

“Mr. Drake, it’s good to see you-” Lucius pauses, staring at Damian. He recovers quickly, “-in the office again.”

“Sorry, Lucius. Guess I inherited more from my dad than just the company.” Tim smiles sheepishly. If he can count getting stabbed by the Riddler for getting the riddle two milliseconds late (the asshole), something he inherited from Bruce (he can), then sure. Damian stiffens next to him, and Tim puts a hand on his shoulder. “Damian’s just here to observe, maybe pick up on a few things.”

“Well, if he’s anything like you, he’ll be challenging you for CEO by the time he’s fourteen.”

Tim grins. “We can only hope, Mr. Fox.”

Lucius waves at them both as he steps away, and Tim guides Damian further into the building. “Have you been here before?”

“A few times, to pick up father before lunch.” Damian scowls at the busy lobby, “Never past the first floor.”

“You came at the tail end of Bruce’s regular involvement around here. When he first got custody of me I spent more time here than at the manor. Dick and Jason, too.” Tim turns a corner, pausing to make sure Damian can get past the crowds. “Apparently Jason would forge Bruce’s signature on release forms and come spend all day playing hooky in the building. Some of the older employees still call me Jason on accident, sometimes.”

Damian hums, and after ducking under the upteenth arm, reaches out and grabs Tim’s hand. “That sounds like Todd, always wanting to get out of actual work.”

“Remind me who called in sick to school this week?”

“That was purely for strategic reasons! In case father needs me!”

Tim snorts, and doesn’t comment on Damian’s hand in his. He nods at a few employees as he passes them, and tries to steer clear of the especially chatty ones. None of them have very many good things to say about Bruce, and while Tim can use all his willpower to stop himself from doing anything but laugh it off, Damian doesn’t care about public image when it comes to stabbing someone to protect their father’s honor.

He stops next to the elevator, and hits the button with his elbow. “Second and third floor are records, then the regular offices, HR, the boring stuff. We’re going to the very top.”

“Todd said most buildings keep records below ground level,” Damian says. “Like the library.”

“Well, Jason would know about libraries.” Tim steps aside as a few people file out of the opening elevator doors, and then pulls Damian inside. “He’s right, most buildings do. W.E’s basement is used for… nightlife.”

Damian nods conspiratorially, and it’s only ruined by the clear joy on his face when he presses the highest button on the elevators panel. “What did you mean?”

“About what?”

“When Fox said I would challenge you for CEO, and you said you hope so.”

“Oh.” The elevator dings, and Tim gestures for Damian to follow him out the door and down the hall. His little brother stays quiet, watching him like a hawk. Stepping inside his office, Tim turns and shuts the door, then kneels down in front of Damian. “This company was always going to be yours, Damian.”

“What?”

“You want it, don’t you? You said as much when you were vying for Robin.”

Damian makes a face, “That was more to manipulate you into believing you had nothing.”

Tim blinks. “Ah.”

“I’ve already apologized for that.”

“I know,” Tim laughs. He stands, walking over his desk to sift through a stack of papers. Finding the file he’s looking for, he holds it out to Damian.

Damian takes it, flipping through the papers inside. His eyebrows furrow, “What is this?”

“It’s the plan.” Tim sits down in his office chair, propping his chin on his fist. “I wrote it up a couple months ago, after my run in with Bane.”

He winces with Damian, a hand moving unconsciously to his side, the phantom pain of a punctured lung and broken ribs flaring. Damian throws the file down onto the desk. “It’s a contingency plan, a final will and testament.”

“It started out that way,” Tim admits, then shakes his head. “But I kept working on it, like I couldn't stop. The more I planned it the more it made sense, no matter what happens to me.”

“Do you wish to give up your position?”

“I mean, not really, but-”

“So you form a plan to give away your empire to  _ me _ ?” Damian snaps, crossing his arms. “You are so sure of your own death that you would spend months perfecting a plan in the case of it happening? What happened to trust, Timothy? Or telling us when you believed something to be wrong?”

“Damian,” Tim cuts in, a little harsher than he met. He huffs and softens his tone, “That’s not what this is. If you’d just listen-”

The intercom on Tim’s desk beeps, his secretary’s voice staticking through, “ _ Mr. Drake, the board of directors are waiting in the conference room _ .”

Tim pinches his nose and nods, pressing the red button, “Thank you, Heidi. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Damian glares at him across the room. “Go, you cannot postpone it any longer, you said so yourself.”

Letting a slow breath out through his nose, Tim stands, pulling his briefcase out from under the desk. “Come on.”

“What?”

“I said you’d come to work with me, didn’t I? That means board meetings too.”

Damian scoffs, “So I can learn what it is I need to do when I steal your job?”

Tim doesn’t comment on that, and thankfully, Damian still follows.

The board meeting is as boring as Tim thought it would be, the only highlight being when Mr. Ardolf tried to make a comment about how his parents would be disappointed in the way he’s trying to spend W.E’s money, and Damian glared at him so viciously he apologized. 

They leave the conference room quietly, despite Damian stepping up for him he’s obviously still angry. Tim’s phone rings and he pulls it out of his pocket, passing Damian his credit card at the same time. “Go get some snacks from the vending machine. I want a Nutter Butter.”

“But-”

“Go, Damian.” Tim watches him stomp off before hitting the green button on his phone and holding it to his ear. “How’s girls night?”

“ _ That’s definitely not what we’re calling it _ .”

Tim chuckles lightly, leaning back against the wall. “Do you need something?”

“ _ Maybe my big brother instincts were tingling _ .”

“Gross,” Tim says, making a face. He stuffs a hand in his pocket. “Damian texted you?”

Jason laughs, “ _ No, Damian texted  _ Dick _ , and Dick texted me _ .”

“Great.”

“ _ Come on, Timbers, what’s happening _ ?”

“What did Dick say?”

“ _ He said Damian’s worried about you, but Damian also asked Alfred to take me to a therapist once because I ate a whole bag of Starbursts in one sitting. _ ”

“Yeah, there are plenty of other reasons to take you to a therapist.”

“ _ Shut up, I see Dinah once a week. Hold on _ .” Jason shouts something, muffled by what’s probably his hand over the receiver. “ _ Fucking kids, how come I’m the responsible one _ ?”

“Beats me.”

“ _ Alright, stop avoiding the subject, what’s going on _ ?”

Tim sighs a little too dramatically, dropping his head back against the wall. “Damian found out about my plan.”

“ _ Found out _ ?”

“Okay, fine, I told him.”

Jason snorts, “ _ So what’s the big deal _ ?”

“He didn’t exactly take it the right way.” Tim tilts his head forward to make sure Damian isn’t coming back yet. “He thinks it’s some sort of contingency plan, like I know I’m going to die.”

“ _ Do you _ ?”

“God, Jason. You know what the plan is, you helped me write it!”   


“ _ Okay, okay _ .” Jason sighs. “ _ So explain what it really is, easy as that _ .”

“Nothing with Damian is ever easy,” Tim replies, rolling pieces of lint from his pocket into a ball. “Who knows if he’ll even give me time, or if I even have a good explanation.”

“ _ Give him more credit than that _ ,” Jason tells him. “ _ Give  _ yourself _ more credit than that _ .”

Tim glares, flicking the lint of his finger. “Yeah, okay.”

“ _ See you tomorrow morning, alright? Don’t burn the fucking manor down _ .”

“Why do you all think we’re going to burn down the manor?”

Jason laughs, and then he hangs up.

Damian turns the corner, arms full of candy and chips, Tim’s credit card tucked between his fingers. He blinks at him innocently, “Was that Richard?”

“No, that was Jason.” Tim raises an eyebrow, “Calling because Dick texted him.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Tim rolls his eyes, pushing off the wall and taking some of the junk food from Damian. “Did you get the whole vending machine?”

“I couldn’t decide,” Damian admits, and Tim laughs, ruffling his hair.

They walk back to his office in silence, Damian makes a beeline for his desk, dumping his snacks and jumping up on top of it. He opens a bag of chips, and looks up to stare intensely at Tim. “What did Todd want?”

“He wants me to tell you to chill out,” Tim says, hoisting himself up onto the desk next to Damian. “And he wants me to explain.”

“Then explain,” Damian says hotly, shoving a barbeque chip in his mouth.

Tim rolls his eyes again. “Damian, what are your plans for the future?"

“Excuse me?”

“You know, when you’re older. What are you going to do with your life?”

Damian shifts, pulling his legs up to sit criss crossed. “I will keep being a hero.”

“What about during the day?”

“Well… what does father do during the day?”

Tim laughs, “He helps out more with W.E than everyone thinks. I’d be drowning without him.”

Nodding, Damian eats another chip, “Then I will work  _ for _ Wayne Enterprises as well.”

Humming, Tim reaches over and picks up the file again, passing it back to Damian, who scowls at him. Tim glares right back. “Read it.”

“It said that I would be named heir to Wayne Enterprises, and become CEO whenever I wish.”

Tim pushes the file against his cheek. “ _ Read it _ .”

With a groan, Damian takes it, flipping it open to the first page. “‘In the event of Timothy Drake Wayne’s death, all of W.E and it’s assets will be passed to one Damian Wayne’-”   


“The part before that, you brat.”

Damian glowers at him, but turns back to the page. “‘When Damian Wayne reaches eighteen, a joint CEO position will be created at Wayne Enterprises, allowing for two different’… what?”

“I need you to have a plan, Damian,” Tim says, almost pleading. “I need you to have a life outside of punching bad guys and getting stabbed. If I could have one thing it would be you  _ never _ picking up the Robin mask again-”

“ _ What _ ?”

Tim holds up a hand. “Let me finish, okay? It’s not that I don’t think you deserve it, I do, now, at least, It’s just that- Damian you died. You shouldn’t- I promised myself, after your funeral, that I would do everything I could to keep young heroes safe. That’s why I helped Gar get that agency deal, and I’ve been setting up interns for any Titan who wants it. Kids shouldn’t be saving the world, but if they- if  _ we _ insist on it, then we at least deserve to have options, to have  _ lives _ .”

Damian stares at him with wide eyes as he finishes his mini speech, his hand lifted halfway to his mouth, a chip pinched between his fingers. Slowly, he sets it down. “The plan is to protect me?”

“Yes.” They sit there, and Tim busies himself rustling through the snacks, looking for his Nutter Butter. 

“I didn’t get it,” Damian says, and his voice wavers slightly. “I was angry so I didn’t get you one.”

Tim smiles at him, “That’s okay.”

The air is knocked out of him as Damian’s tiny eleven year old body slams against his torso, arms looping around his waist. Tim lifts his arms, slowly wrapping them around Damian in return, setting one hand on top of his head. He carefully wipes the surprised look off his face. Sure, they’re close now, but that doesn’t mean they just hug each other.

Damian presses his face into Tim’s suit coat. “You are a… you are a good brother, Timothy.”

“Thanks, Dami. You’re pretty good yourself,” Tim says, voice hoarse, squeezing him slightly.

“It wasn’t your fault, my death.”

Tim looks down at the mess of dark hair, smoothing it over slightly. “I know that now. It wasn’t yours, either.”

When Damian pulls back, he lifts up the file pointedly, “I expect to be consulted on all future decisions concerning this plan.”

“You got it,” Tim tells him, jumping off the desk. “Come on, let’s go get that ice cream.”

Damian frowns, “It is barely one o’clock.”

“Well, in the words of one Jason Todd, ‘fuck capitalist regimen’.” 

Tim grins wider as Damian laughs, sliding off the desk as well. “Perhaps we can bring ice cream home for the others?”

“Are you going soft, Damian?”

“Shut up, Drake, or yours will be poisoned.”

“Your love for me is astounding.”

“When father asks how today went I’m going to tell him you tried to push me out a window.”

“Keep it up and I might.”


End file.
